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father poem

under a spreading chestnut tree
i went up and down the streets
i am in love with high far-seeing places
have we no shame?
what spiteful chance steals unawares
the earth keeps some vibration going
this is the song of youth
you are beautiful and faded
these be
through the broad earth's aching breast
before the solemn bronze saint
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
the darkness

 



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